


I'm not lost (just undiscovered)

by SmilinStar



Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't explain the heaviness that settles in her chest, but it feels a lot like sadness. He deserves better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not lost (just undiscovered)

**Author's Note:**

> Of course of the two ships that would get me out of my writing funk, one of them would be near on impossible to ever happen because TPTB have made one half evil and have a love affair with a different pairing, and the other is for a show that in all likelihood won't see a second season. That's good going. Anyway, title is from the James Morrison song, Undiscovered. This takes place after Episode 1x19.

\-----

 

She's not sure how she feels.

 

She's not really sure _what_ she should feel.

 

Confused may be the only apt description, but it isn't really a feeling – it's a state of being.

 

No, what she feels is a potent concoction of shock and utter amazement, happiness for her oldest friend and sheer relief that everyone is still standing here, alive. But if only it was as simple as that. No, because it's all weighed down by sorrow, hurt, disbelief of varying shades, and worst of all, anger, hot simmering anger. It weighs her down like a large rock tied to her feet by thick, unyielding rope, and she's falling, drowning.

 

The sight of Stephen draped around Hillary, hugging her tight, face buried in her neck in an outpouring of joy and relief, makes her stomach twist and bile rise in her throat.

 

She doesn't understand.

 

She's known Stephen for as long as she can remember. They've shared so much of their lives, so many milestones, so much heartbreak and every rough patch life threw under their feet. She just doesn't understand how the Stephen she knows, and loves, could be so oblivious, so unknowingly callous and thoughtless.

 

She had tried to kill her.

 

She had nearly got a bullet through her brain because of her.

 

John _had_ got a bullet in his chest because of her, and had nearly _died._

 

And there it is.

 

There's the anger again.

 

She snaps her head away from the direction of Stephen's newest bed-mate, and of course finds herself looking in the direction of his former female fantasy.

 

Cara is glaring at the couple in much the same way she imagines she herself is doing.

 

It only flames her anger even more.

 

The only thing she can think of, the only thought that pops into her head, is _John._

She can't explain the heaviness that settles in her chest, but it feels a lot like sadness.

 

_He deserves better._

It's more than she can continue to stomach, and so she turns, and wordlessly leaves.

 

She may have become an honorary Tomorrow Person when she had been forced to live down here in their underground lair a few months ago, but the four days she spent down here had not been nearly enough time for her to get used to the cold, dark tunnels and endless damp space. Too many turns and she knows she'll get lost. She doesn't even have the power of telepathy to call for help if she does.

 

And so she sticks to what she knows.

 

Her desire to be alone is just marginally trumped by her desire not to get lost, and never be found again. Especially as it seemed like the one person who would notice if she disappeared is the one person who currently has his lips plastered to the woman who tried to kill her.

 

She finds herself walking right through the communal area. It's practically buzzing with people and the excitement and hope in the air is palpable, and not something she can entirely relate to at the moment.

 

She briefly considers what she's always considered John's room, although more recently it’s something more akin to a command centre. She thinks about TIM and decides she doesn't really need a disembodied, robotic voice with far too much personality for an A.I. commenting on her mood, and psychoanalysing her.

 

So she just keeps on walking, further away from the stifling excitement and happiness.

 

When she finally stops walking, she's not really sure where she's ended up.

 

She briefly remembers it as the space Russell had dragged her to, to watch some of The Tomorrow People spar, and where he had tried to shamelessly impress her with his moves. Although, she thinks, maybe she should give him more credit than that. She had been moping something quite terrible and he had provided a good few hours of distraction, and had even managed to get a few smiles out of her then.

 

She shakes her head and sighs heavily at the memory.

 

“You okay?”

 

The words surprise her and there's nothing she can do to stop the little startled squeak that leaves her lips. Hand on her heart, she follows the voice and looks up to find John standing there on the walkway, leaning down on the rails with a small smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says.

 

She shakes her head again and silently debates her options.

 

She could turn around and leave, citing her need to be alone with her thoughts. Or she could just stay and share either the silence or the burden, whichever she chose, with him.

 

She makes her choice surprisingly quickly. Turning around she heads for the metal staircase and slowly climbs up to join him at the railing.

 

“I thought you'd be down there with everyone else celebrating Stephen's dad coming back to life.”

 

Saying the words aloud, doesn't make them sound any less ridiculous.

 

He doesn't say anything, and the smile on his face isn't one of joy or humour.

 

He's not looking at her, but from the set of his jaw, and the grip of his fingers on the metal rail, she knows he's not feeling anything of what she would have expected him to be.

 

And so she bats his words back at him, “Are you okay?”

 

“I asked you first,” he says.

 

“Oh no, not this time. You're not turning this around on me. What's going on?”

 

The next second goes on a fraction too long, and she thinks maybe she shouldn't have pushed him, and the apology is there on the tip of her tongue, but he speaks before she has a chance to open her mouth.

 

“I'm guessing Stephen never told you.”

 

“Told me what?”

 

He grips the railing harder, knuckles turning white as he leans over and then rocks back on to the balls of his feet, “The bullet in Roger's chest. I was the one that put it there.”

 

She is stunned into silence. She hadn't expected that and it puts her own worries and thoughts firmly in the pile of the insignificant.

 

Her silence goes on for too long and she feels him move away from her.

 

She doesn't have the power of telepathy but she thinks she knows what he's thinking and she's sorry for it.

 

She grabs at his arm to stop him from leaving.

 

“What happened?” she asks softly.

 

He looks down at her then, and the sorrow and exhaustion on his face is like a punch to her gut and she can't explain why she feels it so strongly. His eyes are blood shot, glazed over with a wet sheen of tears he probably hasn't let himself shed and she holds on to him just that little bit more.

 

He opens his mouth and then clamps it shut again and shakes his head.

 

His struggle is plainly evident and she does not want to be the one who adds to it.

 

“It's okay,” she says, “You don't have to tell me. From everything Stephen's told me about Jedikiah, I'm pretty sure I can guess.”

 

“Order or not, I still did it.”

 

“He'll understand.”

 

“That's not what I'm . . . that's not.” He takes a deep shuddering breath and starts again, “For so long I've been carrying around this weight, this guilt, and now, now he's alive and I don't know what to feel, to think, any more.”

 

He turns around and leans back against the railing, arms folding across his chest as he looks across at the dank wall.

 

“You know what Jedikiah said to me after? He said “You're absolved kid.” I'm absolved,” he laughs on the last word, and it sounds remarkably bitter. “He doesn't get it. It doesn't change what I did.”

 

“No maybe not. But if everyone involved can forgive you, eventually you're going to have to learn to forgive yourself. You're a good person John, and you deserve better.”

 

He smiles down at her then and she knows it as an unequivocal truth, he really does deserve better.

 

“Okay enough about me and my sob story,” he says, not so deftly changing the subject, “What are you doing wandering around on your lonesome?”

 

She waves a hand in front of her, “No, you really don't want to know. My problems are small fish in a very shallow pond compared to yours.”

 

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.”

 

She winces, “Sorry, I didn't mean . . .” She looks up at him and notices the teasing smirk on his lips and can't help but roll her eyes, “Fine. I just got sick of the sight of Stephen with his tongue down Hillary's throat.”

 

“Stephen's an idiot.”

 

She laughs, appreciative of the conviction in his tone.

 

“It's not even that I'm jealous. I'm over the fact that Stephen will never see me that way. He seems to have a thing for kick-ass, buxom women of the super-hero variety, but did it have to be her?”

 

“Buxom?” he raises a brow at her.

 

She's sure her cheeks are now flushing with all the blood that's rushed to her face, “Of course that's all you got from that.”

 

He grins at her, eyes sparkling with laughter and she can't help but grin back at him, glad to see she's at least managed to chase away the melancholy, for now.

 

“I'm serious though, she tried to kill me. You got shot because of her, and he's just blindly trusting her, falling into bed with her, I just . . . I'm angry, and he doesn't even seem to care.”

 

“Like I said, he's an idiot.”

 

She slaps him on the arm, “Not helpful.”

 

“Astrid,” he says, and there's something about the way her name rolls off his tongue, “Stephen will come around. I'm sure sooner than later, he will come with his tail wagging between his legs and with an apology on his lips.”

 

He then reaches across and grabs a hold of her hand, and everything around her feels that much warmer and she feels as if all the air has thinned to almost nothing. “And one day,” he continues to say, voice soft, breath fluttering across her face-

 

When had he gotten so close?

 

“One day, he will open his eyes and see what he's had in front of him the entire time. And I hope for his sake, he's not too late, because you Astrid, buxom or not-

 

She can't help but flush at the turn of his lips, shake her head and whisper an embarrassed, “oh my god.”

 

“Are one of the funniest, smartest, kindest people I know, and any man would be lucky to have you in their life.”

 

“Thanks dad.”

 

He throws his head back and laughs, and the sight has her stomach twisting up in all sorts of knots, and there's a pressure building in her chest that's almost a pleasant sort of unbearable she can't put a name to. Truth be told, she doesn't want to, she wants to hold on to it for as long as possible.

 

“I'm not joking.”

 

She smiles, “I know, and I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

“It's not a sentiment,” he says, and then surprises her even more when he reaches forward and places a hand on her cheek. She has this sudden urge to move, to lean in closer, but she wills her body to stay still and not betray her. It takes an inordinate amount of effort, especially when he gently brushes his thumb across her skin and whispers, “I mean it.”

 

She's not sure she can trust herself to speak, but is saved from any further conversation when another voice wades into their tranquillity,

 

“John? John, where are you?”

 

It's Charlotte.

 

He drops his hand, and turns away, “I'm in here Charlotte, what's wrong?”

 

The little girl turns the corner and Astrid takes a minute to simply breathe in and breathe out.

 

“He's awake. Stephen's dad's awake, and he's asking for you.”

 

He turns to look at her then, and she does her best to give him a reassuring smile. She cocks her head to the side and says, “Go.”

 

“You're not coming?”

 

“In a little bit.”

 

He nods once, grabs hold of her hand and squeezes once.

 

She watches as he slips one foot after the other down the metal stairs and follows after the young girl.

 

“John,” she calls out when he's halfway across the floor.

 

He turns on the spot, and looks up.

 

“It's going to be okay.”

 

He smiles back at her, and it’s more than enough for her to know it to be the truth.

 

For the both of them.

 

**End.**

 

 


End file.
